Before the Storm
by MakeshiftTRIX
Summary: The Normandy made it back through the Omega 4 Relay in one piece, but a storm is brewing and the Reapers are the moving force. Yet, on the Normandy everything seems to be falling apart at the most inopportune time. Taking a look into what happened between ME2 and ME3. Rated M for language, possible violence, and possible adult content.


_Hey guys, this is my first Mass Effect fanfic. Feel free to be a critic and correct me on anything, I'm always looking to improve._

_Okay, I kind of based my Shepherd off of and story off of how my Mass Effect 2 game ended. I also went back and chose those little preset things to develop his character further. His background includes spacer, earthborn, colonist, sole survivor and maybe a little bit of ruthlessness. I know that sounds that it may contradict each other, but have faith that I have a plan and I'm super excited about it._

_Alright we all know the drill._

**_The original Mass Effect story and characters belong to Bioware. _**

**__**_Enjoy_

* * *

Damien Shepherd sat hunched over on a rain drenched sidewalk in the middle of the city, alone, which was just the way he preferred it. There was nothing to distract him, nothing but the hum of hovering vehicles over head and the of passing batarians that shrilled in a drunken excitement as they exited the shady bar down the street. Eighteen and living on the streets, not everyone's cup of tea, but Damien was especially fond of the idea. No rules, no boundaries, and no one to fuck with him. He inhaled a long drawn out drag of his cigarette and closed his eyes as a burning sensation filled up in lungs. He held his breath for a moment letting the sensation settle before releasing a cloud of smoke from his parted lips, coughing subtly as it came up through his throat. Yes, this is exactly how he wanted to live the rest of his life. Sitting on the sidewalk late at night in the alien underworld of the city, away from humans, away from their damn petty laws, and better yet away from their jails.

Damien had spent his fair share of time in a cell as a minor. He was in the over night juvenile detention ward so regularly that the night officers took him up as their own charity case, telling him he should straighten up before he ends up in prison, and they never fail to mention his "juvenile" friends he hung around. It was always the same song and dance with them, with their damn need to save everyone, and Damien wasn't in the mood to be saved, ever. All he could think about when they mentioned anything about his lifestyle was how much he wanted a a shot of whiskey while he sat on a bench in his cell with his face buried in hands trying to drown out the sound of their lecturing.

Troublemaker, future prison dog, borderline criminal could all be used to describe Damien. He wasn't a straight A student in the least, he rarely showed up to school anymore and no one ever expected him to. His job was being a dealer and underworld postal service for alien criminals running these streets. Every cent he ever made went to cigarettes, back alley alcohol, the occasional meal, and illegal car parts for his illegally owned street car. His foster parents never said how proud they were of him, because there was absolutely nothing to be proud of. Only that he was a great criminal and street racer, but that wasn't something to take pride in. Not to humans. His mother and father were probably tossing and turning in their graves right now. Somehow, he was alright with that fact. He was a troublemaker and had no intention of being anything else, because he no potential to be anything more than a street criminal along with the other cast away teenagers in this big city. The only difference between him and them is the fact that he didn't have anything to go back to after a late night such as this one. He had a shelter, of course, but it wasn't home. His home was destroyed a long time ago.

Rain began to sprinkle down on Damien's head which he reacted to by bowing his head a little and bringing his still lit cigarette closer to his body, taking a second drag off of it. The temperature began to drop gradually as the rain began to pick up a little more, soaking Damien and his clothes within a few minutes. He only reacted by shaking his head every once in a while to shake the rain droplets out of his dark brown bangs that started to cover his eyes a little more when the rain picked up.

A sudden tension arose in Damien when he heard the sound of heavy boots practically stomping through mud puddles behind him. He cautiously glanced over his shoulders, seeing a familiar face looking down at him. Damien chuckled lightly under his breath and shook his head in amusement. "Please tell me you were just visiting your home town and that this run in was accidental," he said to Anderson whom didn't waste any time answering. "I wish," he replied.

There was a strange and unwanted silence between the two men as they sat across the table from each other in a small batarian-owned bar. This wasn't traditional setting for them to spend time together in, but that wasn't what made the silence so unbearable to Damien. It was the fact that Anderson only gave him a stern glare, his hands clasped on the bare table top. The only reaction the young man could come up with was to lay back in the chair and stare back with a look of defiance in his own eyes. The discomfort only grew stronger with each passing second before Damien finally gave into speaking first.

"So, did William that finally grow the balls to call you?" he asked the look in his eye never faltering. Anderson shook his head in disappointment finally breaking his glare he was giving the young criminal.

"Actually no, I was in town when I decided to come and check up on you only to find that Lacey and William haven't seen you in a month. And of course, being the smart man that I am I knew exactly where you would be, because it was the same place I found you last time only it wasn't two in the damn morning and you weren't doing anything illegal," the middle aged man explained in a condescending tone.

The corner of Damien's lips twitched as he fought the urge to smile at Anderson's tone. " Well, a lot of things change in a year."

"Yeah, you became an even bigger dumbass."

Damien looked away from Anderson, his jaw tightening as he clenched his teeth tighter. He hated authority and it killed him that he had enough respect for Anderson that he couldn't bring himself to say anything too disrespectful. Anderson sighed, his countenance softening as Damien grew silent and avoided making eye contact.

"I leave for one year and already you've managed to ruin your entire life," he explained in a softer tone than before.

"Well, what did you expect? You said it yourself I'm not one to be tamed," Damien answered his tone still tense.

Anderson leaned back in his chair mimicking Damien's relaxed posture, but Damien reacted by crossing his arms over his chest. "When I said that, I didn't think you would take it in negative context."

Another silence over took the table and the emptiness of the bar became obvious. All that could be heard was the sound of the waitress wiping off the left over mess on the tables with little effort and the muffled sound of clashing dishes from the kitchen in the back. Damien was again, uncomfortable. It was strange to think that Anderson used to be Damien's role model, a natural reaction for someone whom he owed his life to. Yet like Damien had said, a lot of things change in a year.

The silence was broken by the sound of Anderson's harsh sigh, like he had just came to a conclusion. He sat up in his chair and placed his clasped on the tabletop again, his fatherly glare returning to his dark complexion. "Damien," he began. The young man's heart sank slightly. _Shit, I'm not going to like this_, he thought as he examined the old man's body language. He was all too familiar with that posture, that expression, and that tone. Anderson had something in store for him and he wasn't sure he wanted to know what it was. But the young man didn't falter, there was no hint of discomfort in his eyes, he just stared back and inhaled deeply to prepare himself for the man's next sentence.

"I want you to come with me, and join the Alliance," he finally finished his thought. He was only met with wide eyes of shock and after a few moments an arched a dark brow as if that was the strangest thing the old man could have said. Then a chuckle broke from Damien as he thought about it more. "Really, Anderson?" he began. "I think you need to rethink that request."

"I'm completely serious, Damien. I've been waiting to talk to you about since I met you, and I think you should take me seriously." Damien unfolded his arms and leaned over the table placing his elbow on the table and reaching into his pocket with the other hand. "Alright, I'll bite old man," he replied as he pulled out his package of cigarettes and began to prepare himself another. "Why?" he asked as he placed a single stick between his lips and raising the silver zippo lighter to end of it.

"Because as far as I'm concerned you're dumb ass is my responsibility and you're making me look bad," he subtly teased with what Damien knew was a smile on Anderson's face. The young man shook his head as he took the lit cigarette from his mouth between two fingers. "And you think I'll make you look better when I end up punching some drill sergeant's lights out in the first week of training," he joked back even though that was a great possibility. Anderson shook his head "You may have turned into a little punk ass kid, but I know you better than that."

"Obviously not," Damien replied quickly.

"I think you would at least wait until the second week," he answered in a completely serious tone, joking aside. Damien shrugged his shoulders at the comment as he took another drag off of his cigarette taking up another moment of silence and remaining unamused.

The young man looked down at the table and thought about that idea. He never expected to become an Alliance soldier, it wasn't his thing. Well, he did think about it once back when Captain Noah Shepherd was still alive, which seemed like forever ago. That was always his father's plan, for his eldest son to be an Alliance solider and become some kind of war hero which was something Captain Shepherd never had the chance to become in his short lifetime. That was even Damien's plan when he was left to be the father figure in a family of that included a mother and two girls. Yet after leaving Mindior something in him changed, and now here he was, like a lunatic, considering it again.

"Well?" Anderson pressed on.

Damien finally shook his head. "I can't," he answered, a look of doubt in his eyes. It wasn't a fear of death he was hiding from. As a matter of fact he had no real fear of death. It had become part of his life at such a young age that his own seemed so trivial. What he did fear was failure, something he couldn't do with Anderson watching over him like a hawk. He couldn't curse his family name by being a terrible soldier. The least he could do for them was pretend like there was none of them left and disappear into the darkness.

Anderson saw the look in the young man's eyes and sighed. "Well, I at least want you to come live with me for a while," he requested. "And if it doesn't work out, I will happily let you come back down here and leave you alone. I'll even provide the shuttle for your return," he purposed to Damien, whom now seemed to have lost his mood for being the tough one sitting at the table. It almost looked like his innocence had returned to him.

They shared eye contact for a few moments before Damien took another hit of his cigarette. "Okay," he said with a slight nod. "I'll go with you, but don't think that you're going to convince me to join the Alliance, because you won't."

Anderson smiled at the young man's comment, but they both knew he was going to keep trying anyway.

"Alright, but first things first." Damien looked up at the old man with a look of confusion as Anderson lifted off his chair slightly and snatched the cigarette from his mouth. "You're going to quit smoking," he demanded as he began to ground the end into the table.

* * *

Shepherd opened his eyes and stared up at the metal ceiling of his cabin with a sigh. It had been a rough night for him, his body not wanting to grant him with sleep, leaving him to sort through memories he had tried to forget. The irony of that memory lighted up his mood slightly, but still there was a heaviness in his chest. He should be happy, really. He managed to fight the Collector's at their base, rescue his kidnapped crew, escape with his life, and made it out of the Omega 4 Relay with his ship still intact. Most spectres would consider that a victory with luck on his side. Yet it was the loss of some of his team that struck his heart so heavily. Like a fool he found himself wishing that he had done better. It was a strange feeling. One would think that after losing as many people as Shepherd had in his life that he would be numb to such occurrences, with the loss of his family, and his squad on Akuze. But in truth, it got harder every damn time; he had just gotten better at pretending that it didn't.

With a deep breath, Shepherd finally managed to push himself out of bed. Though his muscles began to ache in displeasure, crying out for more time to relax, but his mind could not rest. Not now, not like this.

Once the elevator door opened to the shuttle docking bay at the bottom of the Normandy and Shepherd laid his eyes on the four metal caskets sitting in a perfect row, more regret joined the aching in his chest. Slowly, he made his way over to the caskets and with little hesitation he placed a gentle hand on an unmarked casket that he was sure was Thane's. The cool and collected assassin who never got to reunite with his son, something Shepherd regretted not being able to grant him. On one side of Thane was another casket in which Jack was laid to rest in. Strangely, he wondered if this was better for her. She didn't have to suffer anymore like she was when she was alive. Never would she dare show how scared and alone she really was, and that's what made Shepherd feel even more sympathy for her. He imagined how angry she would be if he ever admitted that he could relate to her. She would probably curse up a storm and call him a name while throwing biotic bursts at inanimate objects like the time he told her she deserved a much better life then she got. A moment he still didn't regret experiencing.

"You couldn't sleep either?" asked a familiar slightly computerized yet smooth voice. Shepherd broke from his trance only to meet glowing eyes under a deep purple visor. She stood at a distance from him with her four fingertips pressed together with thumbs twirling nervously around each other at her waist. He gave her a melancholy smile and even though he couldn't see her face, he assumed that she returned it accompanied by a somber look in her eyes.

"Nothing new for me," he answered in a relaxed tone. "This is the first time I've seen you out of your quarters this late at night. Is everything okay?" he asked knowing the answer, but was curious to know if she would tell him.

She opened her mouth to speak, but instead laughed nervously; a sign to Shepherd that she wasn't going to open up to him that easily. A sigh passed her lips as she continued to walk towards the caskets. _Don't bother him with your problems. He has enough to worry about;_ she thought as she brought both hands to her side and continued to nervously move her thumbs around each other.

"I'm still having rushes of adrenaline I think," she lied. "Or the quarian equivalent of it."

Tali didn't say another word, well aware that Shepherd could see straight through her lie. He paid a great amount of attention to his crew. He practically studied them, and he knew when something was wrong. Especially with her it seemed, not even her visor made her an exception to this trick of his. She assumed that it was because she was the type of person to wear her heart on her sleeve, something she could not change about herself.

Finally, she separated her anxious hands to gently touch the casket. A somber feeling came over her as she slowly let her eyes close. Her figure swayed slightly as if she was growing weak where she stood.

Shepherd watched her carefully as she did this knowing that Kasumi Goto's corpse laid under that surface. In the small time that Kasumi was with the squad, she had become very close to Tali, being the only one that had the personality to meld with hers. Both Tali and Kasumi shared a certain quirkiness that the others didn't. They didn't share Jack and Grunt's aggression or Garrus and Thane's cool attitudes. Though Kasumi was more experienced with death and misfortune, she knew how to stay light-hearted for Tali, something no one else could do as effectively. He knew that Tali needed that at this point in her life. With everything that had been taken from her in the past couple of weeks. Her squads on her pilgrimage, her father, the fleet, and now a close friend; he imagined that she was feeling so isolated carrying a burden she couldn't handle alone. Though he had known this all along, he had never seen her so devastated and quiet. It was like a completely different girl was standing in front of him, dealing with her sorrow like a soldier which deeply concerned him. After losing Thane, Jack, Kasumi, and Legion, he couldn't stand to lose Tali too.

Subconsciously, his own emotions were set aside as concern took the lead. He couldn't help, but want to give her comfort. Glowing eyes opened behind the visor and met Shepherd's gaze.

Her heart sank, because she could see the uneasiness in his blue eyes. How could he be worrying about her right now? Just a few hours ago he couldn't even look at her. He walked away to deal with his own feelings, and she would not allow him to throw away his own problems to deal with hers.

_Keelah, you selfless Bosh'tet, please don't_.

"Tali," Shepherd started with a nurturing tone.

"I'm alright, Commander."

Shepherd didn't take his eyes off of Tali despite the fact that she was refusing to let him in. He didn't know what was going on in that complicated mess of thoughts in her head, but it was driving him insane not being able to know.

He witnessed it too. He watched Kasumi take a shot to the head, trying to hold the door open. Worst part was that if Tali would of have held onto the door a second longer, it could have been her who had taken the shot.

Within the silence she sniffled quietly, trying so hard to be strong in front of him. Even if she wasn't crying, something not even that visor could hide from him, she wouldn't be able to pretend that she wasn't hurting severely.

"Tali," he beckoned as if calling her back to him.

He slowly walked over to Tali, placing his hand over hers against the casket. She gasped subtly, praying to the ancestors that he didn't hear her. She snatched her hand from under his and brought it to the center of her chest. Their eyes met, his fierce gaze never wavering.

"I. . . .uh. . ." she stuttered her breath making a knot in her throat. _Don't start rambling, don't start rambling._

"It's late. I should really be sleeping. . . .uh. . . I should try a little harder to. Yes. I will. You should sleep too, it's unhealthy for humans to skip out of sleep. So I've heard." She shook her head and buried the front of her visor in her palm. "I should go. Good night." Before another word could be said, Tali turned away from him and headed for the elevator.

The situation had escalated so quickly that Shepherd was left in a daze trying to figure out what he had missed in that conversation. One moment he was looking at a somber quarian woman he could barely recognize and then he was listening to the same old Tali ramble on aimlessly. All he had time to do was watch her leave him standing in the middle of the docking bay in bewilderment. "Good night," he answered, though his voice was barely over a whisper. Once the elevator door closed, he took a deep breath and placed both hands on Kasumi's casket. His eyes scanned over all of them. "I want this to end," he began as if what was left of his friends could hear him. "I just don't know at what cost."

After sitting in silence for a few moments, Shepherd finally mustered up enough desire to want to try to sleep again. Though, he lingered a few seconds longer, knowing very well that he couldn't keep coming down here. A promise he made to himself was that he couldn't hold onto them anymore. He needed to let them go, just like everyone else. He turned away from the caskets heading for the elevator and mentally pushing the thought of his fallen squad in the back of his mind to be remembered on another day. There was a storm in the distance, and he had a feeling that the Reapers were only half of it. He needed every bit of himself committed and ready to face it all.


End file.
